Bartimaeus strides over the Marquis and John jerks backward — he isn't a coward, but he isn't foolish, either, and those claws are sharp — but then the demon's gaze is abruptly diverted. Just as abruptly, there's a foot stepping roughly on his, and John's attempted retreat turns into an undignified effort to keep not trip over his own leg.

He does so without grabbing onto Bartimaeus to steady himself, out of sheer prideful stupidity. When he settles his expression's shifted, brow knit together in the kind of haughty anger that means he's about to launch into an insult. One that's bound to be terrified and paper-thin — so paper-thin, in fact, that he stumbles over the natural impulse to shove the demon off his foot, wary to provoke an attack that's already five years in the making.

He's saved the trouble of committing by an interruption. His focus swings to the new voice, startled into silence as Bartimaeus vents its annoyance; one awkward, conspicuous beat later—

"This man assaulted us." He says, because that's what you'd say to someone reasonable. Although... the crossbow doesn't seem particularly reasonable. Think quickly. "He's got everything. All of our valuables, he's already taken them."